A World Apart From Mine
by wired4romance
Summary: Follows "The Return" and "Truth Hurts."


**A World Apart From Mine**

**Chapter 1**

The meeting between Catherine and her biological father had been awkward at best, but Vincent tried to put a positive spin on it. He'd introduced them. It was up to them, now, to decide what each would come to mean to the other. He'd kept his word to Catherine, and that was all that really mattered. They wouldn't be torn apart by lies and omissions anymore.

As they turned to leave the farm house, Reynolds put a hand on Vincent's shoulder, holding him back as Catherine passed through the door. "Don't think this is over, Keller. You and I have a serious problem now."

It was said so low that Catherine could not have heard, but Vincent did, loud and clear. Message received. He growled his response. He didn't really care that Michael Reynolds, the undercover boss of the new Muirfield remix had forbidden him to do anything. Catherine was all that mattered. He jogged down the stairs and caught up with her half-way to the car.

She slipped a hand into his. "Okay, that didn't really go very well, did it?"

"Catherine, you just met the man and you're both in shock. These things take time."

"Yeah, and learning that not only did my mom work for Muirfield but my biological father started it—kind of puts the whole 'daddy's little girl' adage in a whole new light."

"Catherine—"

"And I didn't just meet him, remember? I've been working with that man for weeks now! Vincent, why is Michael Reynolds," she couldn't bring herself to call him 'dad' or 'father' yet, if ever, "running my precinct?"

He held the passenger side door open for her. "It's partly for your protection . . . and for mine."

Her eyes flew to his.

"With the work The Company is doing, and my involvement," meaning his work as their assassin, "we have to fly under the radar. Reynolds is just making sure there are no slip-ups, like the last time."

"You mean, with Evan."

He nodded grimly to her, knowing she still blamed herself for the death of her co-worker and friend. He leaned over her in the doorway. "I mean Evan, yes, and Joe and anyone else who might start to suspect there's still a cross-species being out there committing crimes."

"So he's covering up the evidence."

"He's swapping DNA samples in the ME's lab, changing reports, 'losing' evidence, yes."

She put a hand on his chest. "Is that what we're calling it these days, 'The Company'? You were always on the side of good before—helping people."

"This is not Muirfield as we knew it. Look, the people I take down now are not good people, Catherine. I'm not . . . hurting innocents, okay—I'm protecting them, like I always have."

"In more of a 'hired killer' sort of way."

He shrugged and she looked away. This was a conversation for another day. At least he was being honest with her now.

"I don't think 'daddy dearest' was very happy with you introducing us. Vincent, what if he takes it out on you in some way?"

Vincent laughed at the thought. "What is he going to do to me that he hasn't already, yeah? You let me worry about Reynolds. He has no idea how dangerous I can be when pushed into a corner."

"It's only that I just got you back. I don't want to put you in more danger."

Vincent weaved his fingers through her silky hair. The summer sun had highlighted the midnight color, softening and warming it like her skin, which he wanted very badly to touch and taste again, but they were still in view of the house, and no doubt his new task master had a dozen eyes and guns trained on them at that very moment. "I'm going to be okay. You don't have to worry about me anymore. Hey," he tipped her chin up. "I made a promise that I wouldn't hold anything back from you anymore. This is me keeping that promise." He touched her lips lightly with his own, wishing he could linger, but he sensed the raised tension in the man from the house and knew it was time to go. "Let's just go home."

"Okay."

Vincent left her at her apartment early the next morning with another promise that he would see her later that night.

It never happened.

"What's wrong? You have that Vincent's-been-kidnapped-again kind of look on your face." Tess waved a hand in front of her partner's face. "Cat?"

Instead of answering, Catherine pulled Tess into the closest interrogation room. As soon as the door closed, Tess rounded on her.

"Okay, just put it out there. What's happened? Let me help."

"Tess, he said he would come home to me last night and he never showed."

Tess twisted her lip. "Maybe he got hung up? Cat, I hate to say it, but guys are notoriously bad about getting busy with a project and forgetting their commitments. I'm sure Vincent's no different."

"But he promised."

"Okay, well, there was a big commotion in one of the barrios last night. Maybe Vincent was involved, out all night, and is just sleeping it off."

"But he's not with JT, he won't answer his cell. In fact, it goes right to voice mail like it's been turned off. Tess, I'm worried."

"You spoke with JT? What did he think?"

"He said Vincent's been sporadic in his visits lately, keeping a weird schedule, so he doesn't really know what to expect anymore. He . . . he wasn't as ruffled as I am," she finally admitted.

"See? It's probably nothing. If Brainiac isn't concerned, you probably don't need to be, either. Vincent's a big boy, Cat. He can take care of himself, even in a fight. I shot him in the gut, remember? And he still managed to catch me in the tunnels before you got there. I wouldn't worry so much. He probably just needs his rest."

Catherine swallowed, considering. JT was not aware of all the reasons for Vincent's new schedule. He hadn't explained everything to his best friend yet—that it was better, for the time being, if he didn't know. And he _had _been keeping some very long nights lately—with her—time he should have spent sleeping. But their months of separation made that difficult. What time they had together now generally wasn't spent snoozing. She knew he didn't need as much sleep as a normal guy, but he couldn't go on forever, so perhaps what Tess was saying made sense. Vincent was exhausted and sleeping it off somewhere. Unless— "How many bodies were picked up last night?"

Tess frowned at her. "None that were tall, dark and handsome with an obvious scar on the cheek. Cat—"

"You're right. You're right. I'm sure I'm just overreacting. Hard not to do after the last three months, you know?"

"Understandable. But I'm sure he's fine. Now, pull yourself together. We've got our 'daily' in fifteen minutes. And look sharp. We don't want the new boss to think we're slouches."

Tess was through the door before Catherine could stop her. She hadn't been able to find a way to tell her, yet, about their 'new boss' and felt a teensy bit guilty. Not that it would change anything. After yesterday's meeting, 'awkward' was a totally inadequate word for how she felt about working with Reynolds at the precinct now. She studied her reflection in the reverse glass of the mirror and tidied a stray lock of hair. She could do this. A thought suddenly occurred to her. She could ask _him _about Vincent. Nope. Not ready to go there. At this point, all Reynolds knew was that she and Vincent were acquainted, nothing more. It might be best to keep playing that hand.

*

"Get Bradley in here."

"Yes, sir."

The young clerk left Michael Reynolds' night-time office and ran to do his bidding. He liked it that the kid ran. Showed loyalty. He didn't have to wait long before the good doctor was pushing the door open.

"Status."

Doctor Kenneth Bradley tightened his lips. This was an unpleasant business. He knew exactly what Reynolds was asking. "He's stable, if not exactly healthy." 'Stable' was not the word one would use for a normal man in his condition, but this was Keller, after all. There was no 'normal.' "Naturally, he's highly agitated, but we're monitoring it."

"Make sure the shackles are good and tight, doctor. I'd hate to have to pick scraps of you up off the floor."

The doctor blanched. He'd picked up his fair share of 'scraps' that Vincent and the other beasts had left, and it wasn't a pretty way to die. He held onto the hope that his camaraderie with the younger doctor would save him in the event—no, not even that. After swearing he'd never be locked up and experimented on again, chaining him in a cage and subjecting him to more injections this morning was not sitting him in good favor with the super-soldier right now. Vincent had yet to make eye contact with him since he'd been brought in yesterday, tranqued, and locked in his holding cell.

He'd done what he'd been ordered to do, but he didn't have to like it. Bradley shuddered at where this all was heading—a showdown of apocalyptic proportions, providing everyone survived, that is, which was doubtful at this point.

"Were you aware of his relationship with Catherine Chandler?"

The doctor hesitated. Best to tell as much truth as possible. "As you know, Teague had been set to following him. She reported that he was haunting a few places in the city on a regular basis, but that he'd had no interaction with his former acquaintances."

Reynolds gave him a sideways look. "Well, that was clearly a lie, now, wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir." Bradley could feel his face bloom. Getting on the wrong side of this man could be very dangerous to one's health. He changed subjects. "Any word on Teague?"

"That's another problem he's caused. No. He's hidden her well. Are we past the point of finding anything recoverable?"

Meaning, was it still possible to find her body and harvest parts of it for research? The doctor hid a smug smile of satisfaction. Well played, Vincent. You kept her from becoming more of a victim than she already was. His jutted his chin out. "Probably."

Reynolds swore. "Prepare him then. It's time for me to have a little chat with our lone remaining asset."

Bradley sucked in a breath. He had hoped to have more time. "Sir, he's not reacting well to the latest serum. It would be better to wait a little while longer."

"How so? I thought you said he was stable."

"He is, but not in a condition to converse. He's having a difficult time coming down from the meds. I've taken the necessary precautions, but he needs more time."

"Well make him ready, doctor. I haven't got all night."

"Yes, sir. As soon as he's awake and calm, I'll send word."

Michael nodded then dismissed him with a flick of his head.

Bradley quit the room as quickly as he could without looking like he was rushing. He breathed a sigh of relief when the door clicked shut behind him. He wouldn't want to be in Vincent's shoes right now. But neither would he want to be Reynolds. When Keller had been picked up at the location where they shot Gabe Lowen, there'd been a lot of surprise and speculation after discovering Detective Catherine Chandler, Reynolds' own offspring, also at the site. That she was acquainted with Keller was clearly apparent, but no one knew why or to what extent. He had a feeling they were about to find out. And it wouldn't be good.

One of the reasons they'd had Teague follow him was to learn just that. Apparently, Teague, in a rare show of loyalty to her new-found partner, decided to be cagey about it. Bradley rubbed his brow. Teague was a monumental loss, and not just for her 'parts.' The newest cross-species soldier in The Company had been highly anticipated to be the pattern for the new generations of assets yet to come.

When she hadn't returned that night with Keller, they'd accepted her loss and his explanation as an inevitable risk. After all, she was still a little green and had proved that on more than one occasion, but they'd held out high hopes for her. With Keller beside her, they could have been an unbeatable team. Vincent had confessed privately to him that after she went down she hadn't wanted to survive. That was his first surprise. Cameryn Teague had been so full of life. But apparently, her bravado masked a deep insecurity.

He sighed. He'd tried to do right by them, he really had. He was a compassionate man, after all, not a monster maker. But the entire affair took a toll and not just on the body. Mentally and physically, his patients were extremely fit, but emotionally . . . .

He roused himself. There was still one alive, and if he could save him, he would. He hoofed it back to his office and the cell where Vincent was caged.

He could hear the gravelly howls from the outer hallway.

Bradley approached the cell with more courage than he felt. "Vincent, try to calm yourself. This anger does no one any good." He could hear the ping of the monitors in the room which were capturing every nuance of the soldier's bodily functions. A plethora of alarms were going off.

"Why am I back in here, Bradley?" Vincent growled.

The doctor stepped as close to the cage door as he felt comfortable doing, which was to say, not very. "I'm just following orders, Keller. You'll have to ask those kinds of questions of Reynolds. He's headed here shortly." He hesitated, then shrugged. "Facing him calmly is the only advice I can give you."

"Don't tell me to calm down. Get me out of here."

"I can't—"

"And he won't." Reynolds slipped in the door and jumped into the conversation. "Thank you, doctor. That will be all."

Bradley glanced at Vincent and threw him an apologetic look, then obediently quit the room.

Reynolds, Vincent noticed, wasn't so intimidated. He came right up to the bars. "There's something you don't know about me, Keller."

"What's that?" Vincent forced the words through his teeth. It was an effort to keep still and speak. They'd caught him off guard when he'd reported in the morning, first tranquing him, then dosing him with adrenalin in an effort to bring him back up. The combination had his body on fire. All he wanted to do was howl. It had given them the excuse to chain and lock him up, which, in his red-haze of lucid thought, was exactly what they'd been after. Problem was, it had been hours and the adrenalin wasn't wearing off. He slammed his hands against the bars and watched with satisfaction as Reynolds flinched.

"I don't like threats."

"I didn't threaten you," Vincent answered.

"You brought Catherine here to meet me. If that wasn't a threat, I don't know what would be."

"She's your daughter. She deserved to know."

Reynolds moved back in. "_I_ should have made that choice. Look, I don't know what your relationship is with her, or how you met, but this ends here."

"I'd suggest you not give me any ultimatums in my present condition-_sir_. I agreed to do your work in exchange for you not hunting me and leaving my friends alone. But that's where it ends. I haven't agreed to anything else."

"We'll see."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're in the cage and I'm not. I hold all the cards."

Meaning he could hold Catherine as a threat over his head if he didn't cooperate. The beast was starting to roar again. He was exhausted with holding it back. He flung himself at the bars instead of responding. Reynolds merely laughed and left the room. Vincent sagged to the floor, exhausted.

*

"Still no word?" Tess fell into step beside Catherine as she entered the precinct floor.

"Nothing. It's time to take action, Tess. Something has happened, and I know just the person who can help." She eyed the door to her new boss's office down the hall. She'd broken down and given Tess the low-down on Reynolds just that morning knowing she might need her help.

"Reynolds? Are you crazy?"

"He may be my boss and my father, but he doesn't have any idea how difficult I can make his life."

Tess put an arm out to stop her. "Okay, this sounds like a monumental mistake."

"I'm out of options, Tess. I need to find out what's happened to Vincent. You have any better ideas?"

"Then I'll back you up."

"No. I'm going in there alone. Depending on what he says, then we'll make plans."

She left Tess standing in the hallway and approached the door. Tapping lightly, she pushed it open.

"Got a minute?"

Reynolds looked up, surprise evident on his face. "Detective. What can I do for you?"

Catherine shut the door and some of the blinds for good measure before turning. "I think we can skip the formalities, don't you?"

"You've obviously got something on your mind. What is it? I have a precinct to run."

"I haven't heard from Vincent. He's off the grid. Do you know where he is?"

"Keller? I haven't seen him."

She grimaced and tried again. "Well, is he on a job for you? Don't you have your . . . _operatives _check in on a daily basis, or something?"

Reynolds put down his pen. "I don't have a dog collar on him, as you well know, much as I'd like to. It wasn't part of the deal." When she refused to budge, he decided to throw her a bone. "I just saw him last night, if that helps. He seemed perfectly fine to me."

That gave her pause. She stared at him.

"Was there something else you needed, Detective? Because I have a lot of work to do."

She slammed her jaw shut. Guess the games never ended. "Nope. That was it."

"Good. Then I suggest you get back to your desk and spend your time making this city a safer place—for everyone."

That sounded like a veiled threat but she ignored it, spun around and quit the room. She made a beeline around the corner to Tess. "Okay, that didn't go well."

"What did he say? Does he know where Vincent is?"

"Oh, yeah. According to him, Vincent is fine—he saw him last night. Look, Tess, I know you think I'm being paranoid, but I don't trust him. Not at all. I need to get out to that farm again."

"Well, I'm in. We've got paperwork to do on yesterday's case, but that can be done later."

"Actually, I think I'd like you to stay here."

"But you might need backup."

"I'll take JT."

"I told you, the Mad Professor isn't any good as backup. He's a wimp. You can't trust him."

"Reynolds doesn't know you know anything about Vincent. I think we should keep it that way. I want you to stay here and keep an eye on him. If he starts to leave, distract him."

"With what?"

"I don't know. You're creative—come up with something to stall him. Then call me when he leaves. I want to get into that facility. I have a bad feeling that Vincent isn't 'free' right now. Or worse."

Tess huffed, frustrated to be left there instead of where the real action would be.

An hour after Catherine left, Tess watched Reynolds come out of his office, his jacket on. She ran up to him. "Hey, Lieutenant. Do you have a minute?"

"I'm on my way out, Vargas. What is it?"

"It's just the Dresden case. I, um, I think we've run into a dead end, and I was wondering if I could get you to sign off on an order to pull some stuff out of the evidence locker—"

"Who's 'we'? Where's Chandler?"

Tess looked around, shrugged. "Ladies room?"

"I'll do it when I get back. If you'll excuse me—"

Tess started to argue, but he pushed past her. "Crap! Crap, crap, crap."

*

"This doesn't look like Muirfield. Are you sure it's the right place?" JT nervously peered through his glasses at the neatly hedged grounds. They'd been watching the place for a while, scoping it out, but time was running short.

There was no time for that conversation. "It's not. Exactly. Long story," Catherine evaded. "You'll just have to trust me on this one. I'm fairly certain this is where Vincent is being held."

"Your 'fairly certain's' and 'pretty sure's' are not exactly giving me warm fuzzies right now."

"I don't have any warm fuzzies, either. That's why we're here. Vincent must be in trouble. JT, I just need you to create a diversion out front, something that will bring them all out of the building. Then while they come out, I'll slip in."

"I'm on it, but I don't want them all coming after _me_."

"Can you do a timed explosion or detonate remotely?"

"Sure. Just give me a few minutes to lay the charge, then call me with the signal and I'll set it off. Do you—do you want me to come in after you after so many minutes? Because there might be a lot of people with guns—"

Catherine smiled. "No. Once I'm in, you need to get as far away from here as possible. Depending on what shape I find him in," assuming Vincent was actually there and not holed up somewhere else, "it could take a while. I'm not coming out without him. If there are any problems, call Tess."

"Oh, sure, and she'll just drive down here from an hour away," he murmured under his breath. He could really use the big guy about now. Surveillance was more his thing.

"Okay. I'll call you with the signal." She slid out of the passenger side of the vehicle and melted into the heavy overgrowth that bordered the farm.

At her signal, JT set off his improvised explosive device near one of the vehicles, causing it to burst into flames and set off the one next to it. Then everything worked like magic. Catherine counted to ten after the last person exited, then stole silently in the door. It wasn't a large building, so there weren't many rooms to check, but he had to be there.

At the end of a hallway was a door. Opening it, she found a staircase going down. The shouting continued outside as another gas tank exploded. JT had done his job well, as usual, no matter the complaints he made.

She heard the howling from the corridor. It sounded like Vincent only worse. He had to be in pain or enraged. Her phone buzzed against her leg. Pulling it out, she saw a text from Tess: "He's on his way. Get out of there _now_."

"Not without Vincent, Tess," Catherine murmured and headed toward the sound. She was surprised when she got to the last door and it opened freely. A lone man in a white robe turned in surprise.

"Who are _you_?"

Vincent roared behind him. Catherine held her gun up. The man appeared to be alone. "Open the cage."

"Now, young lady, that wouldn't be wise right now. He isn't safe to be around in this condition."

She spared a quick look at Vincent who was rattling against the bars. His eyes were pure gold and darker than she'd ever seen them. He certainly wasn't in a good place, but she had no choice. "I don't care. Open the cage."

"Be reasonable," the white coated doctor murmured nervously. "He'll kill us all."

"I'll kill _you _if you don't do as I ask." The shouting was getting closer. The men were returning to the house. "Now!" When he didn't immediately obey and footsteps pounded down the stairway she'd just come from, she took the only other tack she could. She grabbed him around the neck from the back and held the gun to his head and faced the doorway. The doctor whimpered.

"That's right. Now you know how desperate I am. I'm willing to die to set him free." As the first man burst through the door, she held the gun barrel closer to the doctor's head. "This is simple. The nice doctor here is going to open the door and then we're going to leave." As she said it, she sidled him closer to the locked cage door. "He isn't safe," the man whispered to her one last time. Catherine looked in Vincent's eyes and nodded for the man to continue. "He is to me."

Doctor Bradley punched in the code with such shaking fingers he had to do it twice. He hesitated on the last button. As soon as he hit it, all hell broke loose. Vincent yanked the door open, Bradley shoved her inside and a single shot was fired before the doctor could shout for them to hold.

Catherine dropped to the floor as the door swung shut of its own weight, locking her inside with Vincent. The tranq had hit her in the right shoulder close to where she'd taken the bullet what seemed like so long ago now. Vincent watched her begin to fall as if in slow motion, then adrenalin kicked in and he caught her up before she hit the cement. Everyone froze.

"Hold! Put your guns down!" This came from Reynolds, who just entered the chamber. "Who fired that shot?"

A nervous young man stepped forth. "I did, sir. I had a sight on him until the girl fell in front. I should have waited."

"Next time I guess you'll know better," Reynolds told him in a generous tone, then leveled a gun at the man and shot him. The rest of the men backed up a step.

"Sir, let me do it," another brave soul spoke into the silence. "I've got bead on him," he murmured, his gun aimed and lethal.

"Absolutely not! Everyone put your weapons down and clear out. Now!" As they did, he turned to the doctor. "Will he hurt her?"

Bradley had known Vincent for some time now. While he was certainly in a state that could plainly be called out of control, there was something in his eyes. He didn't think so, but best not to make predictions. This could get tricky. "It's entirely possible. That tranq was meant for Keller," he whispered as both men kept their eyes trained on Vincent.

Understanding the implications, Reynolds nodded. "He's twice her size and weight."

"It could kill her."

"If he doesn't, first."

They watched as Vincent carefully plucked the dart out of her shoulder with a low growl. Then he stood with Catherine in his arms and faced the two men.

Reynolds held his gaze for a moment then turned to the doctor. "Don't unlock the door for any reason. Let me know when it's over." He shot the man a cold look. "And as soon as she's dead, kill him."

Bradley blanched. Too frightened to move, he watched as the door slid shut and he was alone again, except for the two trapped in the cage and the dead guard at his feet. As the man-beast carried the petite young woman over to the cot in one corner of the stall and laid her gently upon it, cold tendrils of fear licked up his spine. "Vincent, you need to stay in control. You must remain in control."

Getting no response, Bradley settled in to wait.

**Chapter 2**

Vincent's head was pounding with the rush of fear and whatever concoction of steroids and adrenalin the good doctor had tricked him into taking that morning. He should never have trusted the man. Catherine lay still and white as a sheet upon the small bed, completely quiet. Since she'd collapsed, no amount of yelling or, in his case, roaring, had awakened her. A bad sign.

He watched as the doctor checked the vitals of the fallen guard then dragged the man's lifeless body into an adjacent room and returned to clean up the mess. Though he could still feel the buzz of meds pulsing through his veins, Catherine's presence lent him extra strength to tamp it down. It wasn't easy, but he was holding on. For now. The monitors continued their pinging, spiking past normal levels, but they meant nothing to him.

He checked her pulse again. "She should be coming out of this by now. Doc?"

"I'm here," Bradley said coming back into the room with the holding cell. "That tranquilizer was meant for you, Vincent, a suped up soldier on steroids, not a woman her size and weight. What are her vitals?" Perhaps appealing to the younger man's medical background was a good tack to take.

"Her breathing is shallow and heart rate elevated."

"I imagine she's quite dehydrated as well. Vincent, I can help her, but you've got to release her to me. Let me get an IV going—"

"No!" It was more roar than shout. "If she comes out, we both come out."

"You know I can't do that."

Vincent looked up and studied Bradley. Probably not far from his own father's age; a man who'd spent his entire life in the medical field. But what about his Hippocratic Oath? "Can't, or won't, doctor?"

Bradley took a step forward and spoke urgently. "Listen to me, Vincent. You're in need of assistance, too. You can't maintain control like this for much longer. I can see the toll it is taking on you. I have another serum that will counteract the effect—"

Vincent laughed, a harsh sound. "I fell for that trick this morning, remember? That's what put me into this state. It won't happen again." He didn't trust the 'good doctor' not to have another lethal cocktail up his syringe.

"I'm sorry. I was under orders."

"Too little, too late, doctor."

"You can't outlast Reynolds."

"That's what _he _thinks."

Bradley sighed then looked at the girl, her still form so pale and lifeless, and had compassion. "Do you think you can get her to drink?" he asked finally. Going to the small, compartmented refrigerator in the room where the medicines were kept, he pulled out an unopened plastic bottle. He held it up so that Vincent could see it was a normal water bottle, then rolled it through the bars to where he sat with the girl.

"I'll try."

The doctor watched as Vincent picked up the bottle, unscrewed the lid with barely shaking hands and touched her lips with the refreshing liquid. "Open, sweetheart. Please." He tried several angles, but each time the liquid dribbled off to the side and went everywhere but into her mouth. He wiped it off and looked imploringly up at the other man.

"Would a straw help? I'll get one." The doctor returned quickly with a plastic straw that was bent at the top. He passed that through the bars as well. Vincent tried it with discouraging results.

"I can get it into her mouth, but she won't suck!"

"Keep trying. The drugs in that tranq were set to full strength. If we don't get her hydrated soon, I fear for her, son."

Vincent made a guttural sound that adequately summed up both his frustration and his anger. Leaning over her, he touched his forehead to hers, then his lips. "Please, Catherine. For me." Her lips were warm and soft and parted automatically at the gentle coaxing of his, almost as if she were kissing him back. He lifted his head and looked at her, then kissed her again to the same result. On some level she was responding to him. That gave him an idea.

As Bradley looked on, Vincent carefully lifted her head again using his shoulder for support. Then, taking a sip from the bottle himself, he pinched her nose gently with one hand and put pressure on her chin with the other. Then he slowly dragged his closed lips across her own. As soon as she opened, he sealed his mouth over hers.

Catherine choked as the water flooded her mouth forcing her throat to open convulsively. She sputtered, bucked up against him, then finally swallowed, still deeply unconscious. Encouraged by that, he tried it again, then again, each time getting a little more liquid into her until she eventually stopped fighting and just started reflexively drinking from him.

Finally, he crushed the empty bottle and tossed it away, cradling her against his chest.

Bradley had watched in silence, fascinated. He knew he should have looked away—the intimacy of what he'd just observed was shocking—but he couldn't help himself. It had him flushing red beneath his white collar. Whatever relationship Keller had with this woman was far from simple. Of course, being she was Reynolds' daughter made it a hundred times worse. And that made him fear for them both.

"My God, if I hadn't just seen that, I would never have believed it. You're brilliant."

Vincent's golden eyes glowed his direction, but not in a friendly way.

"We'll repeat it again in half an hour. The more we can flush through her system, the better." He got up to pace away.

"Turn the lights off, Doc."

Bradley turned in surprise. Surely this wasn't a time for more intimacy—

"They hurt my eyes."

And added to his tension, no doubt. Bradley hurried to do as requested. Keller was strained to the end of his tether, that much was certain. Yet the girl seemed to have an odd, calming effect on him. Vincent had curled up in one corner of the cot with her on his lap. Every once in a while, he brushed his lips against her head, but kept his eyes trained forward—those glowing, yellow, predator eyes.

Bradley made as if to leave the room, but moved to the darkest corner and sat down, himself. To wait.

"I know you're still there. We don't need a chaperone, Kenneth."

Nor lights to see, apparently. "Nevertheless, I won't leave you. I want to be here if you need anything."

"What I need is for you to unlock the door and let me take her out of here." Getting no response to that, Vincent shifted against the wall and closed his eyes. "Then talk to me. I need a distraction." The closeness of her warm body was setting off little coils of fire up and down his torso which, in his current state, was not helping things in the least.

Bradley searched the darkness, but the glowing eyes had disappeared. "You have unbelievable control, Keller. Not one of the other subjects I've worked on has ever been able to do, even for a few minutes, what you've been keeping up for hours now. And to hold a fragile woman in your arms in that state—well, let's just say it's incredible. Your vitals are still sky high—off the charts. The adrenalin rush hasn't even begun to come down, or has it?"

Vincent would liked to have told him just how _un_-fragile Catherine really was, but it didn't serve to do that. "By slow degrees." It was more the effect she had on him than the meds fading, but Bradley didn't need to know that. He wrapped her tighter in his arms. He'd hurt her once, on his return. Never again. "Talk about something else."

Bradley leaned back in the swivel chair and rubbed a weary arm over his face, wondering what on earth he had to chat about. Finally, he thought of the past. "This wasn't my first choice of profession; did I ever tell you that?" When Vincent didn't respond, he continued in a soft mantra, the clicking of the wall clock and pinging of the monitors the only other sounds in the now darkened room. "I was in training to be a pilot in the Air Force. Had the brains for it; just couldn't take the g-forces and all that flipping around. Weak stomach, you know."

Vincent thought of JT, who also complained of frequent stomach ailments, usually after he'd done something to cause him stress, though he thought his best friend's complaints were more for show than reality.

"Had to withdraw from the program. I kind of just fell into medicine then, but I found I really liked it."

"You're a good doctor, Kenneth. You just chose the wrong company to work for."

"Yes, well, I was feeling a little bit desperate at the time. My wife had left me, there were bills to pay, and when they came calling, I had no reason to say no."

Vincent wondered about that. He felt a little sorry about the wife, but he could think of a dozen reasons for saying no to Muirfield or its predecessor, even so.

Bradley's eyes were adjusting to the dark finally. He looked to the corner of the barred cell and watched the way the soldier was holding the girl. Even in the dim light of the room, it spoke volumes. And took him back to another place and time. "I was in love once, too, you know."

Vincent didn't respond to the 'too' but heard it loud and clear. Were his feelings so obvious? He closed his throbbing eyes again and concentrated on breathing and the doctor's mellow drone.

"Not my wife, mind you. This was before her. She had hair the color of sand—the white kind you find in the tropics, not here—and the brightest blue-bell eyes. I fell hopelessly in love."

Not really wanting to know, Vincent couldn't stop himself from asking, "what happened?"

"Oh, she was young, not interested in being tied down. I learned much later she'd had a child, a daughter. Unfortunately, I found out too late. It was one of those things, you know. I discovered the girl many years later. Poor child. She hadn't set out to live like that but, as many young people without direction and strong father figures do, she fell in with the wrong crowd, got hooked on drugs. It's funny, but when they brought her to me, she still had that spark in her eyes . . . ."

"_Teague_?" Vincent asked, appalled. They had the same blue eyes. He should have noticed the resemblance before now, although Bradley's rapidly graying hair and slightly overweight frame weren't very conducive to making him think of Cameryn. He was certain she never knew—there hadn't been the least bit of familiarity or closeness between the two. Just professional regard.

Vincent growled low. First Reynolds and now Bradley. What could possibly make a man not want to get to know his own daughter? He thought of the day Catherine had come to him with the very scary possibility she was pregnant. He smoothed a hand across her abdomen just under the lip of her blouse. The muscles of her stomach, even in such a relaxed state, were still strong and firm, but covered in petal soft skin like she was everywhere. There wasn't anything he'd love more than to give her a child—a normal child—but it wasn't in the cards for them. Certainly not anymore.

How he would love to grow old with her, dote on their children and grandchildren, the whole nine yards. A beautiful dream never to be.

"Cameryn didn't want to live. Now I understand why you do."

Vincent looked up and saw the doctor watching them. So he knew. She was his world. "Anything happens to her, you won't want to live either." Said softly, it was no idle threat. He held the doctor as responsible as the order Reynolds no doubt had given to put him in there after their little 'conversation' the other day.

Bradley swallowed. "I understand. Release her to me, Vincent, if you care for her. I can get her out of danger."

"Not on your life."

"I suppose, right now she's the only bargaining chip you have."

He supposed right. Once Catherine was safe, they'd kill him, mega-research down the tubes or not.

Catherine began to stir.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself," he answered.

She reached a hand up to his face, her gaze slightly unfocused and no doubt drawn to his glowing eyes. "Are you okay?" She could see the effort it was taking him to remain calm.

"I'm maintaining."

"You look exhausted."

"I can last as long as I need to. How do _you_ feel?"

"Like I've been run over by a semi." She started to try to get up, but was immediately hit by a warm wave of nausea. Vincent eased her back down. "Take it slowly."

"What can I do?" she asked, her focus still on him and not her own weakness. So Catherine.

"Just your being here helps." He leaned his forehead against hers, their noses rubbing. "I can breathe easier now that you're awake."

Catherine looked around the room then. "Some rescue, huh? What are we going to do?"

"Well," Vincent said, shifting her a little more upright in his arms. "As soon as you can stand, the good doctor over there is going to release us." He knew Bradley heard him; the doctor's heart rate had increased exponentially.

"You know I can't do that, even if I wanted to."

"You can and you will, just as soon as Catherine is strong enough to walk out of here—because I don't have any other options. Look deep, Doc, because we walk or we die. Think about Cameryn. Think they won't do the same to Catherine, or worse? Can you live with yourself if that happens?"

Whatever was coming, it wasn't going to happen soon. After the detective roused herself, she fell back into a fitful slumber that could last for hours yet. Bradley went to the supply shelves and pulled out a service blanket. It wasn't much, but he tossed it through the bars.

Vincent, who had been keeping Catherine between him and the rest of the room until then, effectively shielding himself from another tranq, grabbed it up. The blanket would serve two purposes. He slid down into the bed and pulled her and the blanket over him. Not even Reynolds would try to hit him under those conditions, risking her life.

As the couple slept, Kenneth Bradley thought of Vincent's words and the daughter who was never really his.

**Chapter 3**

Kenneth Bradley dozed in and out of sleep, the tranquilizer gun on his lap just in case. As his head slumped forward, he startled and looked up. His two captives were still wrapped up in each other but beginning to stir as well. Thinking of his daughter had kept him awake most of the long night. That Cameryn hadn't wanted to live in the end was an excruciating reality check. He had been wrong. So wrong. About everything. And now this man and this woman were going to be the next victim of his crimes.

Getting up slowly, he walked to the electronic panel and stared. It was what Teague would have wanted, he was sure.

Vincent sat up, suddenly alert, and watched him approach. Seeing what the doctor was about to do, he quietly spoke. "Thank you."

"You can thank me by burying me next to my daughter, wherever you've hidden her. Because as soon as I release this latch, I'm a dead man."

Vincent acknowledged his words with a nod but said, "Not if I can help it." He gently roused Catherine, whose eyes were finally clear of the groggy effects of the drugs. As soon as the lock clicked open, releasing the door, Vincent had Catherine at the opening and swung it wide. At the same moment, the door leading to the hallway burst open and Reynolds walked in and took in the scene.

"What's this, Doctor? A fit of conscience? A little too late for that, isn't it?"

Vincent moved protectively in front of Catherine placing himself in the open doorway of the cell in case either of the two men decided to maneuver them back inside. He hadn't liked using her as a shield last night, but the only way to truly protect her was if he was still alive.

Reynolds calmly watched Vincent, who appeared less beastly than the night before, then he looked over at Catherine. The proprietary hand Keller had on her gave him pause. "I see they're both still very much alive. What did you give him? Looks like he's come down from it."

"Nothing. He brought himself down."

Reynolds turned. "How is that even possible?" Then he looked back at the couple. "Step away from him, please, daughter, and I'll try not to make this fatal."

Vincent growled.

"No!" she shouted.

"Sir—"

"What is it, Doctor Bradley? Having misgivings already?"

"We miscalculated with Teague. It never would have worked out."

"How so? She was just like him. You said yourself how they reacted to one another." He looked at Vincent. "What's the matter, Keller? She wasn't woman enough for your appetites? _Get the hell away from my daughter!_"

"Teague was never an option for our soldier, I'm afraid, Michael."

"Why not? He prefers petite, green-eyed women, instead?"

"No." Bradley glanced behind him at the couple. "Because it appears our Mr. Keller already has a mate."

Silence. As Reynolds looked between Catherine and Vincent, he made the connection. Then all hell broke loose.

Vincent, now standing apart from Catherine, was directly in his sights as Reynolds began to reach into his jacket for his service revolver, shouting simultaneously at Catherine to move away.

Bradley jumped, swung his head toward Vincent as Catherine screamed, then realized he still held the tranq gun in his hand. "Not this time," he murmured. As Vincent charged forward, he moved into the space between him and Reynolds, releasing the tranq just as Reynolds fired.

Both men stood a moment in shock, then fell to the floor.

Catherine rushed to the doctor's side, but Reynolds' aim had been true. A gaping chest wound the size of a fist was pooling blood onto the floor beneath him. "Vincent!"

Vincent hunched over him after checking Reynolds and relieving him of his gun. "He's still alive, but barely."

Bradley was trying to say something. "Remember . . . " was all he got out before his eyes closed.

Catherine looked helplessly at Vincent. "We can't leave him here."

Nodding, but not holding out much hope for the man's survival, Vincent bent to lift him. "There's a back way out of here. Let's get going before the rest of the troops arrive." Hoisting him over his shoulder, Vincent carried the man through the rear exit tunnel he and Teague had used on numerous occasions when they had come and gone from the facility in the wee hours of the night. Bradley was mostly dead weight by now—probably already deceased.

At the far end of the tunnel, a doorway exited to the back side of the property and a trail which dumped out onto the main road.

"Someone had to have heard that shot," Catherine said, back in cop mode. She texted as she ran and was about to press the send button to Tess when they rounded a corner and spotted the little blue car.

"JT!"

JT Forbes was startled out of his daydreaming by the sounds of shouting and rapid footfalls approaching.

"You're still here. Thank God! You don't know how glad we are to see you!" Catherine cried.

He straightened in the driver's seat. "Well, I thought it best to stay close—just in case."

"Start the car!" Vincent roared, breathless, opening the hatchback to lay an elderly and very bloody gentleman into the back.

"He's veiny," JT observed Vincent, his heart rate increasing. "Why is he so veiny? And why are we stuffing a body into the back of the car?"

"I'll explain on the way," Catherine told him, sliding into the back seat with Vincent. "Just drive."

"Get us out of here, now!" Vincent added.

JT kicked it into gear. As he drove them back into the city, the lull of the car's vibration helped calm Catherine. She looked at Vincent. His veins still stood out, but not as distinct. She put her hands on his face.

"It's getting better, every minute."

"Why did they do that to you, again?" she asked, frowning.

"It was just so they'd have an excuse to lock me up. It was Reynolds' way of throwing his weight around after our little father-daughter tea the other day. He doesn't like surprises. Bradley told me the injection was just a supplement booster. Can't believe I fell for that again."

She smoothed back his hair. "You weren't expecting trouble this time."

"I should have been."

She leaned into his warmth. His yellow eyes were indeed starting to fade, thankfully. The effort it took to control the beast was exhausting him beyond all reason, yet he still found the gentleness to cuddle her to him as they rode. By the time they arrived at the old mansion, he had fallen asleep. She very gently woke him and saw that his eyes were back to their normal dark brown. She got JT to help get him inside their lair and onto a sofa, then they carried Bradley's body in and left him on the laundry room floor.

"He'll be okay until tomorrow; then we better figure out what we're going to do with him or he'll start to stink." JT turned up his nose at the idea. "The chest freezer isn't exactly XXL."

Catherine sighed, exhausted as well and still feeling the fading effects of the tranquilizer gun herself. "Okay. We'll work that out tomorrow. If you'll help me get Vincent to his room, I'm going to stay with him tonight. I want to make sure he's all right. Can you wake me by seven so that I can get cleaned up before I have to report to work?"

"Sure," JT said, remembering the wild look on his friend's face, "but you're positive he's okay—you'll be safe?"

"Yeah," she smiled softly. "He's almost himself now. I'll be fine."

As she entered the room, Vincent was sprawled across the bed. JT had helpfully stripped him of his shirt and shoes. She could do the rest. Only the lower part of his powerful torso was covered by a thin sheet, but he was fast asleep.

She took a moment to study him. God, he was beautiful. She gently touched his shoulder smoothing her hand down the corded muscles of his arm, then she reached up and ruffled his hair. He didn't stir. Stripping off her outer clothes, she drew the curtains a little tighter, turned off the light, slid in and lay down facing him. No matter what they did to him, he was still beautiful to her. "Sweet dreams, Vincent," she whispered, and finally closed her eyes as well.

He met her the next day in the alley way behind the precinct.

"Everything okay at the office?" he asked, meaning with Reynolds.

"Yep. We're good," Catherine replied. "Michael is keeping his word. He watches you; you watch me; I watch him. And the world will go on as we know it. As long as he can't find the bodies, we've got our bargaining chip. That, and my threat to take everything I know to the authorities will keep him in line for the time being."

"Plus, I have his gun," Vincent added. "Bradley and Teague are the aces up our sleeve. Reynolds gets out of line, we take the evidence to your ME and the whole thing will blow up. That's the last thing Reynolds wants."

She frowned and shook her head. "I wonder how he lives with himself."

"Catherine, don't take it personally. He might be your biological father, but that's all. It's no reflection on who you are. Reynolds exists in a parallel universe. He operates in a different world."

"Yeah. A world far apart from mine."

"Well, you and I are essentially from different worlds, too, you know."

"Except," she looked up at him, his long, dark lashes framing his beautiful eyes, "you _are _my world."

He leaned in and kissed her.

"I'm just glad it's over and now we can move on. So, you buried Kenneth?"

"Right next to his daughter. I was thinking we could go out to the grave site later today, if you're feeling up to it. I'd like to take some flowers."

"I'd like that. I'm truly sorry for them." She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad they are finally together, though. That's the way it should be."

Vincent nodded. He understood her feelings, but his were a mixed bag. "In the end, he did the right thing." He slid an arm around her. "I'm sorry I slept so hard last night. JT, uh, said you stayed the night?"

She quirked her lips at him. "You needed the sleep. Besides," she teased, "with you out so hard, I could finally have my wicked way with you."

"Oh, really?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Well, do you think later tonight we could get together and you could have your wicked way with me again, this time with my eyes wide open?"

"Feeling like you missed out on something, huh?"

"Totally."

The dimple appeared in her check. "I think I might be able to fit you into my schedule, Mr. Keller. In fact," she pursed her lips, "I've been meaning to ask you about something."

He bit his lip, hiding a smile. "What's that?"

"I have this vague memory of when I was out, or perhaps it's some kind of weird hallucination, I don't know. It just felt so real. I was burning up, but I was drowning at the same time. And you were there."

"Was I? Sounds like an interesting dream."

"You don't happen to know what it's about, do you?"

"I might," he grinned.

After an elegant meal at the table prepared months before, they retreated to the sofa.

"I'm sorry I slept so long last night. In the cage . . . that took a lot out of me. I didn't know how much longer I could hold on."

"I know," she smiled softly.

"I didn't want to hurt you again. I'm so sorry."

"Vincent, you will never hurt me on purpose. I know that."

He reached for her. "You are one in a million." After kissing her once, he leaned back. This could quickly spiral out of control, but he had plans for a long, leisurely love-making time tonight. He reached past her to pick up her untouched glass of wine.

She looked at him in surprise. "What? You can drink alcohol now?"

"This is not for me," he said mysteriously. When she reached for the glass, he held it away. "Well, it's partly for me." He laid her back on the cushions and leaned over her. "Now, close your eyes."

She looked at him with a question but obeyed.

He touched his lips to hers, coaxing them open. Then again. She responded, chasing after his tongue when he teased her with it. Then he turned away, took a tiny sip of the sweet golden liquid, and covered her mouth with his.

Catherine opened her eyes and gave a little cry of surprise as the fruity nectar trickled down her tongue and into her throat directly from his mouth. She swallowed, then followed his tongue with hers, chasing the last drops everywhere, man and fine wine having mysteriously become one. He lifted his head and looked at her, seeing if she remembered.

"_Oh_," was all she said.

"Yeah, oh." 

*End*


End file.
